Thursday, December 4, 2014

Just for Christmas Night by Lisa Marie Perry - Blog Tour & Giveaway

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$10.00 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

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Signed Copy of JUST FOR CHRISTMAS NIGHT

A red-hot holiday

Pro football
publicist Martha Blue has something to prove. To protect the image of the Las
Vegas Slayers—and stay employed—she has to shed her party-girl reputation. Fast!
So no more mistakes. No further scandals. And absolutely no falling for
the one man who can give her everything she wants…and nothing of what she
needs.

Danger and desire
never mixed well for undefeated prizefighter Joaquin Ryder. A friend of the
Blue family, he's a man who knows his boundaries…boundaries he has secretly
crossed only once before. Now that he's back in Sin City to train for the
biggest fight of his career, he can't afford to let a sexy distraction like
Martha put him against the ropes. Revisiting their sizzling past is something
he isn't willing to risk—until a steamy Yuletide encounter, where for just one
night, they'll surrender completely….

The woman was
practically in his lap, shackling him to his bar stool with lust.

Joaquin’s first
mistake tonight had been to touch her. Dipping his finger into that tear in her
jeans. Raking her skin. It had been a purely idiotic thing to do when just the
picture of her dancing in the crush had kicked his body into low vibration. If
he’d known ahead of time that she’d be here…he might’ve shown up sooner.

Joaquin killed
the thought. It had been trying enough to battle his instincts to clear the
Foundation Room and finish what Martha had begun. Groaning—letting that control
slither through his grasp—had been his second mistake.

He couldn’t allow
another. Mistakes indicated disorder. Disorder was interference. Training for
the most hyped-up main card fight of his career, he needed to dodge or defeat
interference.

Dodge Martha,
though? Not likely. Only hours ago she’d warned him of what he’d found to be
true when he’d stepped into this room: Las Vegas didn’t harbor enough hiding
places. Not for two people who should want to avoid each other, but for
whatever reason didn’t. Stacked on top of that was what he’d told Marshall Blue
in the ring at Jules’s gym.

I’ll keep her
close. She won’t jeopardize your business on my watch. That’s a promise.

Sealed with a
grave nod, Joaquin had given his word that he’d deliver. Before he’d fought his
way to money and celebrity, the only thing of value he had was his word. A
promise from him was a rare thing, but his promises were never offered lightly
and were always—always—honored.

Martha’s nails
dug deeper into his thighs.

Control kept him
silent, but the impulse to manipulate that rip in her jeans until he could fit
his entire hand inside had him brutally clenching his teeth. If he couldn’t
dodge her, then the singular option was to defeat whatever effects she—and her
soft hair, luscious frown and trouble-hungry hands—had on him.

“A camera phone
click, and anyone can paint a picture of you giving me a lap dance at Mandalay
Bay.” Even with a demanding hard-on, he could still be pragmatic. “Does that
concern you?”

“Does it concern
you that a picture could be painted of you getting a lap dance at Mandalay
Bay?” was her casual response. “No, right, because you’d be seen as a man just
having a good time. Centuries of struggles, so much social progress, and still
a man’s free to celebrate his sexuality when a woman has to downplay hers.”

“Unfair. I didn’t
say it wasn’t.” The genuine apprehension in her expression pricked his resolve,
dug in where he was defenseless. “Switch places, then, and I’ll give you a lap
dance.”

The lights
shimmied over her as she rolled her eyes. “Funny, Joaquin. But I like you where
you are.” She jerked her body all nice and tight up against him. “Some other
things I like? Flirting. Sex. Getting off. I’m turned on right now—so wet,
right now—”

“This is you not
downplaying your sexuality?” Bold didn’t begin to describe her approach. In
public, she was telling him things only a lover should hear…sharing secrets
meant for a man who at least deserved her.

He wasn’t that
man.

“These are facts.
Another fact—I can let you go.”

“Then stop, if
that’s what you want to do, Martha.”

“Or…” Her focus
drifted down to his lap as her fingers relaxed. “I could come a little closer.”
She pushed her hips forward, and damn him, he was urging her, deeply stroking
her flesh through tattered denim. “And do this.”

Joaquin didn’t
want to give her that, the satisfaction of knowing she could reach him on some
level—any level. Yet he let his gaze trip over the image of her thumbs settling
on either side of the hard ridge in his pants. She firmly pressed down, moving
her thumbs back and forth, further tightening the fabric that his erection was
straining beneath.

“I could,
Joaquin,” she whispered, “tease you like this until you money-shot in these
nice designer pants. Then I could tear you down and demand that you—and I’ll
say it again—get off my territory.”

Damn it. He was
apologizing for yesterday, but all this catch-and-release teasing, all the pain
she was trying to hide, was about what had happened four years ago. That one
damaging night. “Screwing with men’s minds—you’ve gotten good at it. Too good.”

Indifferent, she
reached over his shoulder for her margarita. “You’re too serious.”

Intercepting her,
he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, felt her pulse pound. “Who’re you here
with?” When she mumbled something about being on her own time tonight, he
pressed, “Drive yourself?”

“A BMW and a
driver are on call.”

“Get your phone,
take him off call. You and I need to go back to that place.”

“Where’s ‘that
place’?”

“The gym. It’s
another cold December night. Key’s in my pocket.”

“So the stage is
set for a do-over?” A mocking snort followed. “That’s bewilderingly
romantic—for you, anyway.”

“It’s not about
being romantic.” He rubbed his thumb over her wrist where her pulse continued
to leap quickly, resisting the pressure of his touch. “It’s about taking every
measure to get you past what happened.”

“And at the same
time get you past your guilt?” Martha shrugged as though she didn’t care, and
had the quick beat dancing against his thumb not betrayed her, he might’ve
believed it. “Don’t judge me for holding on, when you’re holding on, too.”

Lisa
Marie Perry encounters difficult fictional men and women on a daily basis. She
writes contemporary romance fiction with plenty of sizzle, energy and depth.
Flawed, problematic, damaged characters are welcome. Her tales feature exciting
multicultural mash-ups, sexy guy-next-door heroes and powerful larger-than-life
alphas who are brought to their knees by the love of complicated women.

According
to Lisa Marie, an imagination is a terrible thing to ignore. So is a good
cappuccino. After years of college, customer service gigs and a career in
caregiving, she at last gave in to buying an espresso machine and writing to
her imagination’s desire. She lives in America’s heartland and she has every
intention of making the Colorado Mountains her new stomping grounds. She drives
a truck, enjoys indie rock, collects Medieval literature, watches too many
comedies, has a not-so-secret love for lace and adores rugged men with a little
bit of nerd.